The Moonstone Rose
by IcyKali
Summary: Dracula has not yet fed in his new form, and his thirst leads him to extreme action and important truths. Takes place during a resurrection of Dracula between PoR and 1999. Death/Dracula


It transpired immediately following what was to be Dracula's penultimate resurrection. Though it was midday, a bank of dark thunderhead clouds obscured the sunlight and left the land gloomy and dimly lit, as if the sun above were naught but a ghostly flickering lantern. While this meant Dracula could leave the castle without his new body crumbling to dust, the most esteemed of his servants cautioned against it—if any of his many enemies discovered his return so soon, before he could attain his true strength, the battle would be lost before it could even begin.

However, this led to Dracula gripping the arms of his bedizened throne, his knuckles white enough to contrast even the fell grey of his skin. His eyes were narrowed into thin, reptilian slits. He had not yet fed in this new body and could not hunt to ameliorate the situation. He had sent his lesser demons to prowl the mountains, tracing the river valleys and hiking trails—he could now see there was no longer any wilderness untouched by humans, a fact that made him even more pleased to feast on them—but none had returned with prey. Were Dracula as mortal vermin, he knew he would be panting and salivating. Even the thought of tearing a blackbird out of the bronzed sky, snapping its bones, and sucking what paltry blood it contained seemed less than repulsive to his aching gut.

In a whirl of silken blush fabric, Carmilla appeared at the foot of the cold stone steps that lifted the throne. She looked up to Dracula, indicating that she brought pressing news—she could not be so bold as to fly up to the level of her Master, after all. Such a privilege was reserved only for his most trusted confidant.

"I hope you've brought good tidings, Carmilla," said Dracula.

She grinned and coyly bared her fangs. "Indeed, my lord! A lone scientist who was wandering the trails stumbled upon your castle once the clouds rolled in. Death was more than happy to make her an offering for you."

Dracula rose. He used his cape to hide his hands from Carmilla's view—she did not need to see how his fingers quivered in anticipation as he envisioned his meal. "Excellent. Escort me to the body at once!"

Carmilla brought her hands together and nodded. She faded into the darkness like blood slowly dispersing in still water, and Dracula followed.

* * *

The main hall was as vast as a cathedral's nave. Its stained glass windows were just barely illuminated by the blocked sun's rays, leaving all colors of the rainbow pooling over the deep maroon carpet. Creatures of the night hid in the shadows of archways, gazing reverently at their lord as he approached. The metallic smell of spilled blood hung heavy in the air, and Dracula felt his self-restraint crumble with every step he took.

Death floated above the carpet, a magic wind causing his cloak to billow out around him. Dracula could not see his skull—Death was leaning over the corpse, pulling its hair back with one hand and using his bloodstained scythe to cut a thin slit in its neck with the other. Death paused in his duties and looked up. "May this quench your thirst, Lord Dracula," he said, his voice characteristically soft, yet booming.

Dracula was vaguely aware of Carmilla speaking behind him, but it sounded distant, as if she stood on the opposite wide of a capacious valley obscured by fog. "If I were less than loyal, I should be envious… you are blessed to be drinking from a virgin with such succulent curves and plump cheeks. She reminds me of my Laura..."

Dracula felt like a rope pulled taut. He surveyed the corpse for but a moment, when his gaze fell upon Death's skull, which quickly became the cynosure of his eyes. A touch of blood had splattered across Death's jawbone and below his right eye socket, and the deep red droplets against the ebony bone resembled the stars of the milky way in a winter's night sky.

Dracula stared for a few moments more before giving in and allowing his body to be engulfed in flames, He transformed into a swarm of chittering bats who rushed toward Death. They reached him and flitted around his robe before Dracula once again took his usual form. He was standing so close to Death, he could almost taste the blood on his skull—but Dracula was gazing at the unearthly blue pinpricks of light in Death's eye sockets and not at the blood splatters.

"...I hope this satisfies you, Lord Dracula," said Death. Though most creatures would be unable to read Death's expression, Dracula knew him intimately enough to tell he was confused.

Dracula continued his attempt to strip Death with his penetrating gaze.

"Do you desire a glass—"

In a single smooth motion Dracula wrapped his arms around Death and closed the distance between them. He lapped up the spots of blood on Death's cheekbone and jaw while holding him in a tight embrace. Even after Death's skull was licked clean, Dracula continued to dart his tongue between Death's teeth and even into his eye socket, savoring the subtle taste of bone.

Dracula's hunger had long subsided by the time he finally stilled. He slowly pulled away, his eyes widening in horror. With the haze of thirst gone, he could not deny responsibility for his actions. He waited for Death to react.

After a pregnant pause, Death reached over and gently brushed a few stray hairs out of Dracula's face that had become misplaced during his frenzy and carefully ensured they were back where they belonged. Dracula felt a sudden chill and resisted the instinctual urge to shiver.

Soft gasps came from behind him. He whirled around, letting go of Death, and saw the wide eyes of the creatures of the night upon him. From every shadowy corner of the hall, he saw their stares. At the same time, Carmilla was smirking and giving him a knowing look. Dracula hastily turned away from her and back to his confidant.

"Surely such a paltry amount wasn't enough to satisfy you, my lord! Fortunately, the rest of the body remains to be your feast," said Death. His voice carried notes of joy and happiness, the beauty of which was too much for Dracula to bear.

Dracula took a step back, nodding shallowly. He leaned over and picked up the body, before vanishing along with it in a pillar of flame. He did not wish to stay and hear the conversation of his servants which was certain to follow.

* * *

The castle was built on a foundation of illusions—nightmares, in the eyes of loathsome humans. Thus, although in this instance it had been given form high in the Southern Carpathians, it had also spawned a courtyard with a lush garden full of man-eating flora. Dracula teleported there as soon as he had finished quenching his thirst. His dark, agitated aura caused the ravens and Unes to scatter, leaving him with naught but the solitude he desired.

He noticed himself unthinkingly searching for the delicate white flowers Lisa loved, but he knew nothing so pure could live in this twisted place. Though supposedly the flowers were a common sight in the grasslands, he had not found any in countless decades.

Instead, he found a pristine, silky blue flower resting in a shadowy, cool area upon the grass, waiting patiently for him. He gingerly picked it up—immediately, he recognized it as a thorny rose dart left behind by an Alura Une—it was an unholy, unnatural plant, yet beautiful. There were no blue roses found in nature—such a flower could only thrive in the castle.

He twirled the rose between his lithe fingers and wondered what Lisa would make of it. He hoped she would appreciate it, despite its origins—after all, she had dabbled in phlebotomy once, and so could not judge the Alura Une's diet. Yet Dracula knew she had always preferred the flora that lived in the courtyard, outside of his domain.

He sighed and continued his walk through the garden. The sun was setting now, and a faint golden glow touched only the highest branches of the trees—they looked as if they wore gilded crowns. Night was on the verge of fully falling.

Eventually, Dracula came upon a lavish fountain, decorated with finely-sculpted relief around its outer rim. He sat upon its marble surface, and its cool, smooth texture brought him comfort. Though he has always preferred wooden coffins, he could appreciate stone tombs as well. As he sat and continued contemplating the rose, the water in the fountain turned red, and that unforgettable rusty smell drifted over Dracula—the fountain was running high with blood. Dracula seized up. The sharp scent bringing about a flashback to his earlier behavior. His action had been far too passionate and sensual to be explained away as a display of friendship. And not only had he forced Death into it, he had betrayed Lisa's memory. How could he have proven unfaithful to both of the key figures in his dead heart in a single moment of weakness? Was it only a matter of time, considering how many of Lisa's wishes he had already trampled? He hung his head and looked down into the rippling blood, which darkened as it grew deoxygenated in the evening air.

"My, could that be a gift for me?" asked Death.

Dracula caught a glimpse of the reflection of Death's hood in the fountain. Dracula turned around, used to the sudden appearances of his old friend. "Yes, you could view it as an apology gift," said Dracula. He held out the rose dart. As Death accepted it, Dracula felt his fingers lightly brush Death's finger bones.

"This is a very thoughtful gesture, but what is there to apologize for, my lord?" Death pierced his hood with the rose's thorns and put the stem through it, so he could wear the flower as an ornament.

Where was he to even begin? "It is foremost an apology for forcing myself on you, Death."

Death laughed. Dracula felt a wave of feeling come over him—he had the strong sense that were he not a vampire, he would be blushing. "I don't want to seem overly bold for saying so, but when you last rose, our very souls became one in the heat of battle. You must know that your display of affection was not unwanted, and that our wishes were in perfect alignment." The lights in Death's eye sockets were shimmering.

"I am aware, but even so, it wasn't very gentlemanly or _lordly_ of me."

"Be that as it may, your _advances_ were more than welcome," he said. "You are very dear to me." This profession was made without pathos, as if he were merely reciting an interesting anecdote from an encyclopedia.

The corners of Dracula's mouth turned up slightly. "You are very dear to me as well." He watched as the blue of the rose became more pronounced in the fading light until it shone like a finely-cut moonstone. His disloyalty and infidelity came rushing back to his mind, and his smile fell.

Death interlaced his finger bones and floated closer to him. "Have your thoughts turned to Lisa?"

"Indeed... even after all I've done that she could never forgive, I never anticipated that I would be unfaithful to her." He turned away and watched the blood run through the fountain as he remembered when, surrounded by the dark void, his son had told him Lisa's last words. "...Unfaithful to her in the area of _love_. Though after I've ruined all she held sacred, why had I not expected this to happen." It was not posed as a question.

Death was was now right behind him. "I can't speak for her, but as her love for you was true, would she not be happy to see you with me as I was happy to see you with her?" he asked softly.

The question gave Dracula pause. He had long believed that Death's feelings transcended friendship and loyalty, but he was unaware that it had been true for so long a time. Dracula remembered that in the sentimental novels from the New World he had read, such a realization would often be treated as a forbidden secret that would unsettle the protagonist. Yet he did not feel disrupted like the ripples in the fountain that lay before him—instead, he felt a newfound strength and hope blossoming within him, like flowers that only bloom when touched by a moonbeam. "...Yes, you do have a point," he said. There would be other occasions for mulling over the past. "Come, walk with me."

They left the fountain behind, enjoying the companionable silence. They wandered through the garden until they reached a glade whose grass was slowly being dyed blue by moonlight, for the full moon was now peeking through the storm clouds. They stopped to admire the sight as Dracula hatched a plot.

"I feel the only way to atone for my earlier actions, Death, is to allow you to do something unprecedented to me," he eventually said, scarcely keeping the giddiness out of his voice.

"I suppose I can so that if you'd like me to, my lord." Death adjusted his rose. "There was once something I wished to try that would have been unbecoming for a servant."

"Then that would be ideal. Go ahead!" Dracula held out both of his arms and stood before him.

Suddenly, with the same power he used to wield his scythe, Death put his arms around Dracula and swung him around, lifting him up in the process. Dracula cackled all the while—so this was how it felt to be a bride carried across the threshold! Death was pleased by Dracula's reaction in turn, and the two of them reveled in holding each other close.

"'The mouth that has been kissed loses not its freshness…' how does that wisdom apply to you?" asked Dracula, amused.

"I do not know the answer, Lord Dracula, but I would gladly help you find it." And so they searched for the answer and discovered it again and again.


End file.
